


better be ready to smile

by gomamon



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Getting Together, just... vibing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:01:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25676248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gomamon/pseuds/gomamon
Summary: Somehow, whether it be fate or just dumb luck, Tifa finds herself acting as a personal repairman for a overly friendly flower girl.
Relationships: Aerith Gainsborough/Tifa Lockhart
Comments: 18
Kudos: 127





	better be ready to smile

**Author's Note:**

> hi everyone! this one takes place kind of in the same bubble as my [other fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25513582), but it's not required reading by any means! someday maybe i'll write something with more substance, but seeing as i'm back writing after like, three years of not writing, it might take some time. once again i apologize for any mistakes, it was, surprise surprise, also written at 4AM. comments are always appreciated!

The first time they meet, it’s not magical. It’s not some soul-crushing, spine-tingling moment. It’s Tifa, sweaty and exhausted, stacking cartons of extra ingredients outside Leaf House. The final box stacked, Tifa wipes her hands on the front of her shorts, but her gaze doesn’t shift from the flower girl that has appeared seemingly out of nowhere as she practically bounces up to Biggs, greeting all the kids that come up to her one by one, name by name. Her attention is diverted, however, when Marlene comes running up to her, practically howling. 

“Tifaaaa,” she whines. “My dress got dirty!” 

Tifa glances down to see that yes, Marlene’s dress is now in fact covered in mud. Trailing behind her, a little boy laughs maniacally, his wooden sword bouncing against his back. 

“Don’t be such a baby! It’s an ugly dress anyway!” 

Just as Tifa reaches down to pick up Marlene, she hears a voice to her left call out, “Edwin! You better apologize!” 

The girl from earlier. She has her hair in a braid that cascades down her back, tied up in a pretty, pink bow. Her cheeks are flushed with anger as she moves to stand across from the boy with her arms crossed against her chest. This moment, it shouldn’t be anything significant, really, but Tifa can’t look away. Not when the other woman raises her eyebrow and kneels in front of the boy — Edwin. 

“Go on. Apologize.” 

Marlene buries her face against Tifa’s neck, leaving a trail of snot and tears. Lovely. “Honestly, it’s fine,” she says, “We’re about to head out, anyway.”

The other woman tilts her head upwards and tosses Tifa a scowl. This is the first time they’ve ever met, and she actually scowls. 

She doesn’t stop scowling, even when she turns to Edwin and grunts, “No, he needs to apologize first.”

With a roll of his eyes, Edwin finally offers a quick, “Sorry!” before darting off. The crouching woman sighs and rises to her feet. 

“Sorry about him. He lost his sister a couple years ago, and since then, he’s always a little ruder around the girls,” the woman says, leaving Tifa no time to process that information before chirping, “Well! I’m Aerith. I haven’t seen you two around here before. What’re your names?” 

Marlene lifts her head. She rubs her nose as she mutters, “I’m Marlene. She’s Tifa.” 

Tifa offers Aerith a sad smile and shifts Marlene on her hip. Aerith reaches into her basket and pulls out a flower. Having lived under Shinra’s sickening metallic plates for years now, Tifa almost forgot what it was like to see such a soft, mesmerizing shade of pink. Marlene seems entranced too, her little hand immediately reaching out to take it from Aerith. Her eyes are wide, like she’s just received the greatest gift of her life, and her dirty dress is completely forgotten. Tifa smirks. She’s truly Barrett’s daughter. 

“Well, Marlene, I’m sorry Edwin was so mean to you. Do me a favor and keep this flower safe from mean boys like him, okay?”

“‘Kay!” 

Tifa swears she sees Aerith wink when she walks off, tossing a quick “And Tifa, I hope I see you around here again!” over her shoulder.

_Wait, what?_

  
  
It wasn’t a magical moment, not really. But Tifa doesn’t stop replaying it in her mind. Distracted, she absentmindedly wipes down the bar, gazing at the flower that has now been put in a glass next to the sink. Done cleaning up the tables, Jessie wanders over. 

"Pretty flower,” she says, “Where’d you get it?”

Tifa tosses the rag into the sink. “A girl gave it to Marlene today to cheer her up.” 

“A girl? Or like, a _girl_ girl?”

Tifa rolls her eyes. “A woman, I guess. She seemed around our age. She was delivering flowers to Leaf House.”

Jessie sits at the bar and puts her chin in her hand. She stares up at the ceiling, acting like she’s deep in thought. “Oh, yeah. I’ve seen her before. The flower girl.” 

“She’s —“ 

“Cute, right? Wears a bow? Voice of an angel?” 

Tifa has half a mind to not even respond, but she takes the bait, because she always will. “I don’t see how that’s relevant.” 

“It isn’t! I’m just saying, is all.” 

The thing is, Tifa knows it’s all just Jessie’s teasing nature, and that really, there’s a chance she’ll never even see Aerith again. Knowing all that doesn’t stop her from thinking about the other woman again once she’s tucked in bed, staring at her hideous ceiling. 

She’s wrong, though, because Aerith is already at Leaf House the next time Tifa helps Biggs deliver food. She’s sitting at one of the tables, coloring with a few of the youngest orphans. Her crayon flies across the page and she's deep in concentration, with her tongue sticking out of the corner of her mouth. She's wearing overalls with a rose-shaped patch adhered to the front pocket. From a distance, Tifa can see a streak of dirt on her cheek, and despite herself, it makes her smile.

Aerith looks up from her art piece when Tifa sets a crate of food down nearby. She grins and pats the chair next to her before turning back to her drawing. Without even thinking about it, Tifa sits down, gently taking the crayons and paper that Aerith hands her without even looking up from her own drawing. Tifa can’t exactly tell what it is, yet, but it involves a lot of red and purple. A lot. 

“No Marlene today?” Aerith asks, still not looking up. 

“Oh, no. She’s with her dad today,” Tifa explains, glancing over at the piece of paper in front of the little girl to her right. Her drawing is even more incomprehensible than Aerith’s. “Whatcha drawing?” Tifa asks. 

“Jackalope.” The little girl says, as if it should’ve been obvious. Aerith snickers. 

Bewildered, Tifa squeaks, “Oh! C-Cool!” before contemplating her own drawing. She could draw an animal. Maybe a cat. Or maybe she could draw some flowers, or maybe a person. No, she’s not creative enough for that. With a sigh, she just starts drawing Seventh Heaven. She figures it’s easy enough, since it’s just a building. 

After a few moments, Aerith finally looks up from her own drawing to peek at Tifa’s. “What’s that?” She inquires. 

“Oh, it’s my bar. Over in Sector Seven.” 

Aerith leans in to get a better look, and Tifa swears she feels like her head might explode. Aerith smells so nice, which makes sense, since she is a flower girl, but something about her being so close makes Tifa feel breathless. It must be that she’s allergic to one of Aerith’s flowers. Must be. She clears her throat and Aerith leans back to give her another goofy, lopsided grin.

“Wow, that’s impressive. Did you build it yourself?”

For a second, Tifa thinks she sees Aerith’s eyes flit to her bicep, but she doesn’t even want to address that. Instead she says, “Well, kind of. I bought it, but it needed a lot of work. Had to replace the equipment, fix stuff up, y’know.” 

Aerith nods, her attention back to her drawing. Tifa still can’t figure it out. She thinks maybe she sees... a person? Maybe? She doesn’t have long to ponder it before Aerith says, “Oh, I know. Stuff’s always breaking down. My mom’s been trying to fix our fridge for a week.”

They sit in silence for a while with only the sounds of wax against paper to accompany them. Having been the owner of a bar for a while, and working with Avalanche for just as long, silence is not natural to her anymore. It’s nice, though, this casual atmosphere. She barely even knows the woman next to her, but for some reason, it doesn’t bother her. 

When Tifa hears Biggs saying his goodbyes to the kids, she feels her heart sink, just a little. She’s barely done with her drawing, and she actually wants to stay and figure out what Aerith’s is. Technically, she has the day off, with Jessie and Wedge taking over preparations until she opens the bar in the evening.

She starts drawing messy stars in the sky — pink ones, since the little boy across from Aerith is using all the yellow crayons — as she casually says, “I could help with that when we’re done here.”

Aerith lights up, smiling brightly. Biggs walks over then, hands on his hips.

“Ready to go, Tifa?”

She’s about to explain, but the other woman beats her to the punch. “Tifa’s still got work to do here!” she says, reaching for the pink crayon from Tifa’s hand. “She’ll be back around... maybe six?”

Like some sort of idiot, Tifa just sits there, her mouth half open and her eyes wide. They grow even wider when Aerith’s fingers brush against her own. What is going on here?

“Oh, uh, alright then,” Biggs scratches at the back of his head. “No problem! See you then, Tifa! Bye, Aerith!”

Still wading through the deep end, Tifa doesn’t really see or even hear him leave. Her eyes are trained on Aerith’s picture, which has now revealed itself as a silly looking monster in the middle of a clearing, the pink crayon flying across the page to add in flowers surrounding the beast. Aerith hums happily for a moment before tossing the crayon down and looking directly at Tifa. Her eyes are green, greener than anything Tifa has ever seen since moving to Midgar. They make her long for a place she hasn’t even been to — a quiet forest with shade between the trees. For a moment, she wonders if she’s finally going crazy. 

When Aerith grabs her hand and pulls her up, Tifa decides that maybe, she is. 

Elmyra seems like a kind woman, but Tifa can sense the sternness in her tone when she gives her a once over and says, “You’re sure you know how to fix it?”

“Y-Yes ma’am!” Tifa stands upright, feeling like she’s being examined under a microscope. Next to her, Aerith lets out an exasperated breath. 

“Mom, she owns a bar. She knows how to fix a fridge.” 

"A bar?” Elmyra places the toolbox she brought out from the closet down on the table. She shoots Tifa a look, and all Tifa can do is grip the edges of her skirt in anxiety. 

“Oh my god,” Aerith groans. “Why don’t you just go for a walk or something until we’re done?”

Long gone is the casual, bubbly girl from outside Leaf House. She’s fidgety now, clearly frustrated by her mother’s wary expression. It’s been so long since Tifa’s seen something like this. Even longer since she experienced it. 

Eventually, Elmyra concedes, saying she’s got some shopping to do in Sector Four. Aerith sits on the floor, her legs crossed with her cheek in her palm, watching as Tifa inspects the inside of the fridge. “Well, you’re lucky, I think I can fix it.”

“I sure am,” Aerith sighs, and Tifa can’t stop herself from flushing. It must be the heat. It must be. 

The next night, Tifa’s passing a drink to a customer, warily observing as he takes three different attempts to grab it. No more alcohol for him, she decides. She's been here for what feels like a lifetime, watching customers come and go, but this guy refuses to leave. He's the last one at the bar. Across the room, Cloud is fiddling with the jukebox while Wedge complains about the dart scoring system. She rolls her eyes, and notices that Marlene’s flower is still perched next to the sink. About a week old, it’s looking a bit worn down. She frowns. 

As if she could sense Tifa wondering how she could find a replacement for tiny, sensitive Marlene, Aerith glides into the bar. Her dress is blue today, but her bow is still the same pale pink as it always is. She’s completely casual, like she comes here every night, as she strolls right up to Tifa and places her basket on the bar. The half-conscious customer tosses some gil on the counter and gets up from the stool and starts to stumble out, his drink completely forgotten.

“Wow, it’s a miracle,” Tifa huffs, blowing some stray strands of raven hair out of her face. 

“I get that a lot.” 

Tifa narrows her eyes at Aerith, then, who only giggles in response. If it had been anyone else, especially after such a long shift, Tifa wouldn’t have found it endearing. Fortunately for Aerith, she does. She lets out a long breath and finally allows her shoulders to relax. 

"Long night?” Aerith asks as she takes a seat. 

"You could say that. You want something?”

She should ask why Aerith is here, or how she even found Seventh Heaven in the first place, but when she remembers the amount of dirty glasses she has to clean later, she finds that she doesn’t really care. 

“It’s fine. I’m not staying long. I just wanted to drop these off for you.” 

Aerith reaches into her basket and pulls out a whole bouquet. It’s yellow and pink, with a bunch of flowers that Tifa could never name in a million years, but she has eyes, and knows they’re _pretty_. She takes the arrangement from Aerith’s hands and holds it in front of her, beaming. 

All she can do is breathe, “Oh, wow. Marlene is gonna love this.”

Aerith beams back. “I thought so. Plus, they’re kinda for you, too. I owe you for fixing the fridge.”

Tifa turns away to rummage through the cabinets for something to put the flowers in. “It’s fine!” she calls out, crouching behind the bar. “I owed you for helping me with Marlene.”

Eventually, she finds a tall glass, and fills it with water. She’s deciding where she wants to put the flowers when Aerith sighs so dramatically that it’s almost comical. Tifa places the flowers on the corner of the bar, already anticipating the way the little girl’s eyes will light up when she walks into the bar first thing tomorrow morning. Aerith sighs again, and Tifa directs her attention away from the flowers. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“Oh, it’s just the song,” Aerith states, jerking her head towards the jukebox. Cloud has finally left it alone, allowing it to play Tifa’s favorite record. It’s jazzy, but smooth and lighthearted, like looking at the stars on a warm evening. “I really love it.”

“M-Me too.”

“I broke my record player. I miss music.”

Tifa catches Cloud’s eye from across the room. He gives her a look that she can’t quite decipher.

She doesn’t even think before she says, “I can help with that.”

After that, Tifa finds herself at the Gainsboroughs’ more and more. First, Aerith breaks her record player, and then the light in her bathroom, and then the oven. Tifa almost can’t believe that one person can be so clumsy, but she doesn’t complain when Aerith spends the entire stove repair chattering away, talking about the crazy dream she had last night. Tifa tinkers away, a smile stuck on her face the entire time. Her cheeks almost hurt, but she figures it’s worth it when Aerith passes her a cool glass of lemonade, their fingers brushing together again. 

“What about you? Any weird dreams lately?”

Spending more and more time here means that Tifa has had more time to learn all sorts of little things about Aerith. She hates eggs. She never falls asleep before nine. She can’t whistle. She loves tea, and wrinkles her nose whenever Tifa drinks coffee in front of her. She’s endlessly amusing, but also endlessly frustrating in a way that makes Tifa feel off-balance. 

Aerith has learned plenty about her, just from their conversations while Tifa diligently repairs whatever appliance has crapped out that week. She tells Aerith about the bar, about Cloud, and even shares a few details about home. For her part, Aerith always listens, her head cocked to the side, eyes soft like moss on a stone. 

Wanting to keep her balance, Tifa avoids those eyes as she takes a sip of the lemonade. It’s sour on her lips as she says, “I dreamt about flying, a few days ago. I guess I just miss the sky.” 

The softness in Aerith’s eyes has been taken over by sadness when Tifa meets her gaze again. She shifts from one foot to the other. Honestly, she hates feeling like she’s being pitied, and she’s about to say so, but Aerith reaches out for her other hand and Tifa doesn’t even remember what she was upset about in the first place. 

Aerith gently shakes Tifa’s hand as she insists, “Someday, you’ll see it again. I know it.”

And it’s strange, completely strange, but Tifa believes her. 

“She’s weird.” Cloud says to her, one afternoon in the bar. Aerith has just left, having brought Tifa some fresh herbs and a sweet note that Tifa holds now, smirking at Aerith’s sloppy handwriting. The note thanks Tifa for helping to fix the toilet the day prior, and that there’s definitely some fresh bread in her future, should she want it. 

“She’s... Aerith,” Tifa mumbles and tucks the note into her pocket. “She’s not like anyone else we know.” 

Tapping his fingers on the counter, Cloud considers this. “I guess. Is that why you keep helping her?” 

Tifa snatches the glass from his other hand, smirking. It’s then that Jessie practically materializes from nowhere, mischief painted all over her face. 

“Cloud, you are _so_ pretty, but _so_ dumb,” she says, taking a seat next to him. She’s supposed to be prepping, but clearly teasing Tifa into oblivion takes priority over that. 

“What?” Cloud grunts, completely oblivious. It’s like he purposefully misunderstands Jessie sometimes, but Tifa isn’t about to call him out on that. 

“She likes her? Like, _likes_ her?”

Tifa reaches out and grips the counter. Her fingers ache in protest, but she only grips harder when she sputters, “Wh-What? That’s crazy! I don’t... she’s my friend! Why... I don’t like her.” 

Jessie could kill with the look she gives Tifa. In fact, maybe Cloud should report a murder, because Tifa feels like she could die when Jessie muses, “Alright, how about this? If I told you that my lamp was broken, what would you do?”

“Tell you to get a new one,” Tifa fires back. 

“And there we have it.” 

Oh. _Oh_.

It hits her then, like an inevitable crescendo. The loudest part of a song. The part everyone waits for. She thinks of every time she ever sat on the train, thinking about what to say to Aerith next, of every time she replayed their conversations in her mind in the darkness, and every time she felt like her heart might give out in the middle of the street. In Marlene’s picture books, the moment the prince realizes he loves the princess is supposed to be mystical, accompanied by cheers from the audience and pages of flowers and hearts. As the panic sets in, though, she doesn’t feel like a prince in a book. She feels like an idiot. 

How can she ever be good for Aerith if she’s spent this long denying her feelings in the first place?

_Damn you, Jessie._

The next time Aerith shows up at the bar with a loaf of bread, Tifa can’t handle it. She can’t handle the fleeting looks, the way Aerith’s hand lingers on her bicep for just a second too long. She’s never done this before, liking someone in this way. Sure, she thought she liked Cloud, but after years of distance and time to understand herself, she realized she never could’ve loved him, not like _this_. She’s been running towards this, she knows, but now that she’s here, standing in front of Aerith in the middle of the bar on a Tuesday night, it’s like facing a monster head-on. 

Tifa takes the bread, placing it on the counter, but she can’t look up. 

“Thanks,” she says, coldly. 

Aerith is nothing if not perceptive. And Tifa almost hates her for it. She says her goodbyes, leaving almost as quickly as she came. 

They don’t speak for days, or even see each other. Tifa lets Biggs take the bread to Leaf House, but she doesn’t ask to tag along. Cloud does, instead. When he comes back, he asks to see Tifa in the back room. 

“You need to talk to her.” 

Tifa is taken aback. Normally, her and Cloud are partners in their weird knack for repressing feelings. Of everyone, she had thought he would understand. 

“What?”

“You’re stupid. She likes you. You really think she broke her entire oven for no reason?”

“I --”

“You said it yourself. Aerith isn’t like anyone we know. She’s bold, and it’s annoying, but she’s not subtle.”

He walks out then, leaving Tifa standing there, dumbfounded. 

_Talk to her_.

She doesn’t have an excuse the day she wanders into the garden, hands clasped behind her back. It’s a warm, humid afternoon, and Aerith is crouched amongst her flowers, not exactly tending to them, but doing something. Tifa feels almost guilty, interrupting her, but when she sees that silly, careless smile, she stops worrying. 

"Hey.”

“Hey yourself,” Aerith hums back, but she doesn’t stand up. She only looks back at the flowers with a peaceful look on her face. “Something wrong?”

“No.”

A moment passes. Aerith reaches out and adjusts a leaf on the stalk of one flower so it isn’t tucked under another one. The corner of her mouth perks up, and Tifa can’t look away. This moment, it feels too important to back down from. She should be scared by that revelation, but she isn’t. A breeze sends the other woman’s bangs flitting back, and Tifa takes in her long lashes, the way her eyes crinkle at the edges. 

“Don’t tell me you came all the way here just to look at me.”

Reality practically shatters like cheap glass, leaving behind sugary dust and jagged edges. Heat spreads across Tifa’s entire face with a speed that could rival any creature on the planet. Her heart practically screams as Aerith stands and moves towards her. She gets close, so close, and tucks a strand of Tifa’s hair behind her ear. 

"I came to apologize."

“Oh yeah?”

Tifa reaches for Aerith's hand, and for a second, she wonders if she'll pull away and leave Tifa out to sea. She'd deserve it, if she did, but Aerith squeezes her hand, and Tifa comes back. 

"Yeah. I'm sorry. I've been avoiding you."

Tifa doesn't even know how to react when Tifa laughs, "It's only been a few days. But I appreciate it."

And Tifa kisses her then, grabbing her by the hand and pulling her in. The first time they met, it wasn’t a magical moment, but when Aerith smiles against her mouth and loops her arms around her neck, Tifa realizes that this moment is. 

When they break apart, Aerith taps her nose. Tifa scrunches it and furrows her eyebrows, and Aerith chirps, "You're forgiven, by the way. But you'll have to make it up to me, you know."

"Yes ma'am."

\--

“Will you build me a shed?”

Tifa opens her eyes to cast Aerith an irritated glance. They’re lounging amongst the flowers, the yellow ones, with Tifa’s head in Aerith’s lap. Slowly, Aerith combs her fingers through her hair, stopping every once in a while to drag her thumb across her cheek or her lips. 

“Why would I do that?”

Aerith hums, “Um, ‘cause you’re my girlfriend and you love me?” When Tifa huffs in frustration, she adds, “Also, ‘cause I can tell you’ve been restless lately. Thought working with your hands might help.” 

Despite herself, Tifa’s heart rattles in her chest. She supposes she’ll never get used to this, to having Aerith like this, and to Aerith knowing everything she feels. It’s strange, having someone who knows her so completely and so ardently. Cloud knows her, but she doesn’t think he would be able to pick up on the tiniest of changes. Would he even notice if she was biting at her fingernails more, or rolling around in bed for an extra hour before falling asleep? No, those details were only perceived by Aerith, who is currently looking down at her, grinning like she’s stolen the final cookie from the jar. _Typical_. 

“Maybe I have been. But that doesn’t mean I’m gonna build you a whole shed. Where would I even get the wood?”

“Biggs knows a guy.”

“I wouldn’t even know how to design it.”

“Jessie could probably help with that.” 

“Plus, ugh, all the heavy lifting.” 

At that one, Aerith actually laughs. “Oh, right, I’m sure moving some wooden planks would be _so_ hard for you,” Tifa just glares up at her, and Aerith sighs, “You’ve gotten lazy, Lockhart. Just ‘cause I agreed to be your girlfriend doesn’t mean you have to stop doing things for me.”

It’s a joke, but Tifa sits up anyway, kisses Aerith anyway. It’s a joke, but Tifa still says, “I’ll do it.”

**Author's Note:**

> [x](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0k5s0FP_uvw)  
>    
> anyone else ever see that movie holes? good movie. good movie. 
> 
> anyway, happy late national girlfriend(s) day! as you can probably tell from me fixating on a relationship between two women in a final fantasy game, i’m definitely single, but i got a kick out of people on twitter congratulating aerti for the occasion. none of you know me, but y’all make me laugh. i know this is a little disjointed and messy, but i hope someone enjoyed it!


End file.
